


hang your head over, hear the wind blow

by bbuckyy



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Insecure Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, Lullabies, M/M, Oneshot, Songfic, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:33:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23283298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbuckyy/pseuds/bbuckyy
Summary: geralt has trouble sleeping, echoes of stones and slurs rattling through his head. jaskier takes notice and offers him solace the only way he knows how: a lullaby.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 266





	hang your head over, hear the wind blow

Many nights had been spent like this. Jaskier sleeping soundly on the forest floor while Geralt huffed and shifted and tried his very hardest to fall asleep. Nothing was keeping Geralt awake, but somehow there was always _something_ wrong with the conditions. Foreboding weather. Uncomfortable ground beneath his body. Screams echoing in his mind. Bruises still healing after the villagers of the last town he passed through stoned him. Usually those last two.

Not that he’d ever admit it, of course, especially not to that cheeky bard. There were lots of things Geralt would never tell him, that being at the top of the list. He had created a rapport of not letting those things bother him. “ _Happens so often I hardly even notice anymore_ ” he’d tell Jaskier after covering bruises from rocks and stones. “ _They’re just ignorant. I can’t blame them_ ” he’d say after hearing whispered slurs from across the tavern.

To his credit, their jeers certainly affected him less now than they had when he was still a young Witcher. Mostly because he’d stopped pretending that they were wrong. He knew he was a monster, why waste the energy convincing himself otherwise? The townsfolk were justified in being afraid of his slitted eyes, and his too-sharp teeth, and his hulking, solid shape. He just wasn’t _normal_. And abnormality would always be feared, why try and fight it?

Geralt turned on his side, away from Jaskier, and tried to focus on the sound of the dying campfire still crackling by his feet. He shifted on the rocks and roots of the forest floor, trying to make himself comfortable, but knowing it was ultimately futile.

He heard a shift behind him, and felt eyes on his back.

A gentle cough, and an intake of breath.

“ _Down in the valley,_ ”

Jaskier’s voice barely carried through the still night air, barely made its way to Geralt’s ears, but made it there all the same.

“ _Valley so low_ ,”

His voice was soft and soothing, occasionally catching at parts, as he had just awoken.

“ _Hang your head over_ ,”

This wasn’t his performance voice. There was no vibrato, no sound of a smile behind his voice, just words meant for the two of them to share. A private show.

“ _Hear the wind blow_.”

Geralt’s breath slowed and he allowed himself to lean into the music. For once in their many years of travelling together, Geralt actually listened to the lyrics. He obeyed their commands, paying heed to the sound of a soft breeze weaving its way through the trees.

“ _Roses love sunshine,_

_Violets love dew._

_Angels in heaven_ …”

He completely lost himself to the sound, eyes growing heavy and dry with sleep, and he surrendered himself to the weight of his eyelids.

In the morning, they were silent. Geralt warmed some bread over the rekindled fire as Jaskier began to pack their things. Should anything be said? Would grace be accepted, or would it be rude to thank his bard for the previous night’s lulling?

He cleared his throat, gruff and low as always, “Thank you.”

Jaskier turned around, “Hmm?”

“Thank you. Last night. For the-”

“Not at all, Geralt. It’s alright.”

~~~

The next night, Geralt found himself in the same situation, this time in a bed. The town they had stopped in didn’t have any ghouls or goblins for him to conquer, but they took advantage of the open room and treated themselves to a night indoors. Despite the soft downy mattress below him, Geralt tossed and turned. He was facing away from Jaskier, with a comfortable buffer of space between them on the wide bed. He shifted and shuffled about on the bed trying to get comfortable when he felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder.

“ _Down in the valley,_

_Valley so low,_

_Hang your head over,_

_Hear the wind blow_.”

Jaskier’s voice was much closer this time, much more sure of itself. He squeezed his hand on Geralt’s shoulder and began to trace small circles into the fabric of his shirt with his thumb.

“ _Hear the wind blow, boys,_

_Hear the wind blow,_

_Hang your head over,_

_Hear the wind blow_.”

The bedframe creaked as Jaskier moved his body closer to Geralt’s, cupping the Witcher’s body with his own. Geralt merely sighed into it, let himself melt into the mattress and into the body of the man behind him. He was determined to hear the whole song this time.

“ _Roses love sunshine,_

_Violets love dew,_

_Angels in heaven_

_Know I love you_.”

Geralt heard Jaskier swallow after that line. His arm wrapped itself around Geralt’s waist, and his hand rested on his chest, just above his heart. Geralt placed his own hand there too, on top of Jaskier’s.

“ _Know I love you, dear,_

_Know I love you._

_Angels in heaven_

_Know I love you_.

“ _If you don’t love me,_

_Love whom you please,_

_Throw your arms ‘round me,_

_Give my heart ease_.”

Geralt laced his fingers between Jaskier’s and sighed. He could feel Jaskier’s breath on his neck as he sang. What could this mean? Why would Jaskier show him this kindness? Geralt had paid for many whores in his long life, and none of them treated him as gently as this, and yet Jaskier was doing it for free.

“ _Give my heart ease, love,_

_Give my heart ease._

_Throw your arms ‘round me,_

_Give my heart ease_.”

Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s hand, “Jaskier.”

“Geralt?”

“Thank you.”

“Any time.”

~~~

The next morning, just like the last, was silent. Geralt took inventory of his potions and elixirs while Jaskier folded his expensive chemises. The tension was thick, and nearly went unacknowledged.

“Where did you learn that song?” Geralt was facing away from Jaskier, afraid to truly confront the answer- or rather, what would be said after the answer.

“My mother used to sing it to me. It always put me right to sleep, and I noticed you’d been tossing and turning lately, so I thought…” he trailed off, not finishing his sentence.

“The lyrics-”

“It doesn’t mean anything, Geralt.” Jaskier was quick to shut him down. He laughed nervously, “I mean, it’s just a song. It sounds nice, you couldn’t sleep, so I… sang it.”

“I…” Geralt huffed through his nose, “I liked it. Even the lyrics.”

“Oh.” They both stood perfectly still, potions and clothes set down, Jaskier staring at Geralt’s back.

“And I....” Geralt turned to face Jaskier, but kept his eyes glued to the floor, “I liked the… touching, too.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“Liking it.” Geralt knew this wasn’t allowed. Witchers were permitted to enjoy very few things, lullabies and soft touches from male companions not being among them.

“Geralt, you don’t have to apologize for enjoying something. I did it because I thought you would like it, so I’m glad you did.”

“I just… sorry.”

“Geralt, what in the hell are you apologizing for?”

“Thinking it was more than a song!”

“Oh.”

“And thinking you… liked men.”

“ _Oh_.”

“Just forget it.”

“Geralt, I do like men. Almost more than I like women. _Almost_.” He thought for a moment, “Geralt, do _you_ like men?”

“I… can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Like men.”

“And why is that?”

“Witchers aren’t supposed to. Complicates things.”

“Geralt, your life is complicated enough, surely a little more wouldn’t hurt. But I didn’t ask if you _could_ like men, I asked if you _do.”_

Geralt clenched his jaw and sighed. “Yes.”

“Okay. Thank you for telling me.” Silence hung between them for a moment, Jaskier staring at Geralt, Geralt’s eyes still transfixed on the rug they stood on. “Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

“If you wanted it to be more than a song, it can be. Truth be told, I think it already might be.”

Geralt finally looked up to meet Jaskier’s gaze, brow furrowed and jaw set in confusion. Jaskier took a step towards him, then another, then another, and his hand came to rest on Geralt’s cheek. “Please…”

“What?” Jaskier cocked his head and tried his damnedest to read Geralt’s face.

“Don’t make yourself do this. I can get by on my own.”

“You don’t have to. And for the record, I’m not making myself do anything.” Jaskier tilted his head and barely rested his lips upon Geralt’s. Geralt took in a sharp breath and pushed himself into Jaskier softly, closing his eyes and resting his hands on Jaskier’s hips. Jaskier brought his free arm around Geralt’s neck and tangled the hand once on Geralt’s cheek into his tangled white hair. Jaskier opened his lips and breathed into Geralt, squeezing into him like another cup of ale into a full belly. Geralt parted himself from Jaskier, yellow eyes flicking across his face, studying his mouth, eyes, and cheeks.

“Are you sure you want this? Want me?”

Jaskier smiled coyly, “Darling, I’ve been sure I wanted this for the past five years.”

**Author's Note:**

> my mom used to sing this to me, so i have some not-so-great feelings attached to it, but i feel like it fits really well with these two. comments make my day! :-)


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